Ok, this is the new chapter (obviously). I hope you liked the first, though it was really short, but this one and the next ones will be a little longer.

I regret to inform you that I do not own Star Wars (though, I wish I could own Liam Neeson, but then, the gorgeous half wit is already married and 30 years older than me…) or the unforgivable sinner song. You all know who they belong to, they're both geniuses and life is sooo unfair that I do NOT make a single cent with this story!

But let it not prevent you from reviewing, PLEASE-O-PLEASE-O-PLEASE!

(Love you, reader)

Chapter two

The moon of endor hung in the black deep space. The unfinished Death Star was far behind now, and though, its ominous presence was like a weapon aimed at his back. He had made it to conceal the turmoil of his thoughts and feelings in front of the emperor. Partly. He knew this was a test. Or maybe some new kind of twisted punishment. Just like what he had told him when he had awoke. Time had stopped then. And it had been just as if nothing had happened from that moment on. All those years like one long agonizing secon.

Follows you around all day and you wake up soaking wet

Sleeping or waking the words clinged onto him, and often he was bitterly glad of the mask he was wearing.

But now, he had to wait. For the first time in years, he was waiting for something to happen and time had a meaning and a substance. He had just been informed that the men on duty had caught one of the rebels who had landed on the moon. A young, sand-haired man with old fashioned clothes who called himself Skywalker.

He repressed the urge to pace the corridor. He felt the presence so clearly now, even more clearly than in the Cloud City when he had seen his face for the first time. He remembered when he had first felt it, several years ago, while chasing that rebel princess in the orbit of Tattouin, so dim he had thought it was a mere residual force signature of his own years on the sun-battered sand-ball down below, and afterward, so disturbing, on the death Star, mingled with Obiwan's and so painfully like Padmé's… then he had begun to feel the pain in his chest. It had been growing more and more since then, just as if a thread of himself was being stretched to breaking point.

Cause between this world and eternity there is a face you hope to see

He felt the presence approach. He turned to face the door. It opened with a hissing noise and there he was, right behind some smart little officer who seemed very pleased with making himself noticed with his "brilliant" deduction that a rebel is never alone on a planet.

He almost ripped the item the man handed him and ordered him out, barely noticing him obeying with a disappointed face. Again, the pain rose in his metal encased chest. He couldn't get used to it. Nothing he had done could erase it or even ease it. On the Cloud City, it had been searing, almost excruciating, when he had felt the boy's –his son's- hatred crashing against him. The boy –his boy- had been so cleverly taught to hate him. And though, he was so much like his older self: same eyes, same complexion, same built, almost the same face, this no one could deny. Something missed though. He couldn't find any trace of the mother in the son. Nothing. Where had she gone? There was a strange, fleeting second when his sight of the world seemed to blur.

You know where you sent her you should know where you are

As if for the first time, he achingly wondered where she had been afterwards. He knew, for certain, as he had known without the slightest doubt that he needed her, that she was still alive when they had begun to fight and that when he had pasted out, she was still breathing too. He knew something had happened in-between, weeks had elapsed before he had awoke again to consciousness. Obi wan had gone, had stopped him from saving her. He had always been good at it, Obi wan: only by being good and well thinking and perfect, he had always managed to get in his way. From the very first day, as he had left his birthplace behind. (He had never really given him his trust, never, in spite of everything he had done to gain it, to deserve it) Oh, sure, Obi wan had always had very good reasons; the jedis always had. But in grief, who among the Jedi had turned to him as a boy, only once? They had been two to bow in front of the little jedi delegation all those years ago on Naboo. But whose shoulder had been patted? Whose hand had been taken in a gesture of comfort? Whose grief had been paid attention to? Amazing how even though all this had been dead and gone for decades, almost three years after his own death, beyond all this, Obi Wan could still hurt him. All this that had happened to him, thanks to Obi Wan…

"Come with me!" said the boy. Rage flared inside him. The very same words… Nothing had changed. Was Obi Wan just waiting behind the nearby door, to take from him the last thing that was left to take?

You're trying to ease off, but you know you won't get far

He had lost it all, all those who cared for him, all the friends, all those he loved, his family, his youth, his own child, his own wife, his angel of beauty, the one miracle of his life –and its curse too. All those blissful moments, ever since he had first set eyes on her, when he would look at her, when she would look back and smile, when he would touch her, and kiss her, and when she would say that she was his and the world was complete. And yet she had turned away from him, she had betrayed him, yes she had! She had brought Obi Wan along, he had told her to stay on Coruscant where she would have been safe, but she had to come and mess it all up with her words… What had she said? So many things he hadn't thought of for years… The sound of her voice… he knew it had been sweet, and kind, and warm, but he couldn't recall one word she had said. He knew she had said things, but he could hear her words and her beautiful voice no more.

And she's up there, sings like an angel but you can't hear those words

"You'll be forced to kill me"

What could he say to that? Was it fate that his angel had died at his own hand? Was it fate that all those near him should die because of him? First Qui-Gon, then Shmi, then all the others, his former companions, his wife… Now should his own son fall as well? Was he cursed? Well, this certainly was a possibility. There was this prophesy that had triggered the whole thing, ancient, rotten, corrupted words. He felt now how strong the boy's faith in the force Obi Wan had taught him was. To break it would break him. Yes, it would be his doom. Nothing could avoid it. For once, he knew, the emperor would be wrong. And all the searching and waiting was for nothing at all. He was lost. Cursed. Rejected. Disowned. Dead. Alone.

And she's up there sings like an angel Unforgivable sinner…

Well, hope you liked it. Can you see now just how close to the movie this song is? Amazing! PLEASE R&R!

Reader, you are my sex symbol!